


A Fitting Predicament

by acesandapricots



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Aftercare (Implied), Anal Play, Bondage, Bottom Julian Bashir, Cardassian Anatomy, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Top Elim Garak, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesandapricots/pseuds/acesandapricots
Summary: Julian was trussed up in yards of rope, his lean body bare except for the toys Garak had selected to adorn it - and only one scrap of fabric away from exposure to the entire station. He was stashed away in the fitting room of Garak’s Clothiers, a present Garak had wrapped up and was waiting to open.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	A Fitting Predicament

**Author's Note:**

> My everlasting thanks to [whitmans_kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitmans_kiss/) for beta reading!
> 
> Details of Garak's Cardassian anatomy taken from tinsnip's "[Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479)."

It thrilled and terrified Julian in equal measure that the curtain of fabric separating him from the bustle of the tailor’s shop and the promenade beyond was so _thin_.

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated across the floor, the voices of conversations at the replimat low in the distance. The curtain wafted lightly in the sudden exhaust from an air vent before settling back into still pleats.

Julian trusted Garak; he really did. He trusted him with his safety, at least - both physical and, to a slightly lesser extent, emotional.

But this was new territory, and it excited him as much as it scared him.

After all, he was trussed up in yards of rope, his lean body bare except for the toys Garak had selected to adorn it. He was completely at the tailor’s mercy - and only one scrap of fabric away from exposure to the entire station.

Delicate clamps dug into his tender nipples, puckered with pleasure and the cool air. Thick, hard rubber filled him, stretching deliciously against his rim and sending a thrill through his body at every tremor and tremble. Ankles were tied to thighs, toes to thumbs, wrists bound tightly behind his back, all with blood red, woven silk. A ladder ran up his arms and looped around his shoulders and neck, a beautiful lattice of twists and knots that he could see in the full-length mirror out of the corner of his eye. He was kneeling, back straight and knees wide, several coils of red wrapped suggestively around his torso and a scrap of fabric tucked between his teeth. His cock, hard and flushed, was wrapped in a harness, bollocks drawn apart and tied off from his shaft in such a way to keep him erect and extra sensitive.

He was stashed away in the fitting room of Garak’s Clothiers, a present Garak had wrapped up and was waiting to open.

The usual noises of the shop sounded just beyond the thin curtain, the trilling voices of shoppers and the occasional, soft _whoosh_ of the metal door clear to his augmented hearing. Brief moments of still silence bracketed by the hum of machinery, the low voice of a customer's question, the musical tone that was Garak’s reply. Julian tried to measure footsteps, to guess the number of customers and the most trafficked displays in order to distract himself from stiff muscles and building arousal.

He tensed as the curtain in front of him began to twitch aside, but as he saw the gray, scaly hand reaching around to grasp the fabric, he sank back into his bonds.

“I’ve come by to check on you, make sure everything is fitting properly." Garak's gaze was appraising. He slowly circled Julian, methodical and precise, running practiced fingers lightly over ropes, checking tension and circulation with an air of professional consideration. He squeezed Julian's bare palm, and received a distinct double-flick of two fingers in response. _Keep going_.

Back around at Julian’s front, he stood poised, his head bent slightly at a courteous angle.

“Now, I have something else for you to try that I think will make this ensemble more comfortable.” Garak produced from the pockets of his tunic two small, tufted purple squares. “Knee pads, made of the finest Vitarian wool. I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty - I had a few extra lengths lying around my storeroom and rather a lull between other customers this morning. It’s a rush job, not up to my usual standards, you understand, but I did think they would help round out the look.”

Garak was so solicitous it was maddening; he was acting the very picture of a considerate tailor helping a customer through an intricate fitting. He bent down and gently slid each pad between Julian’s knee and the hard industrial carpeting of the fitting room.

Julian’s bony knees sank into the purple pillows, a small comfort that did little to dispel the straining tightness of his limbs or the yearning discomfort of unfulfilled need. But it was appreciated all the same.

When Garak rose, he hissed lightly in Kardasi, a soft reptilian sound of mock displeasure.

“Allow me to adjust those for you.”

He reached out with long fingers and tightened the clamps pinching into Julian’s nipples.

Julian’s whole body flexed within the confines of its rope bonds, two _zings_ of pain ricocheting from his chest down into his cock and blooming into warm pleasure.

Garak smiled. "Lovely. I'll give you a moment to enjoy the alterations."

With a graceful step, Garak let himself out of the fitting room - never allowing the curtain to slip and reveal any piece of Julian’s bound, trembling form to the shop beyond.

Julian bit back whimpers, his chest burning with sensation. His cock throbbed, aching with the absence of direct touch and the presence of so much other stimulation. As he squirmed in an attempt to relieve the pressure on his nipples, the plug in his ass nudged against his prostate, mixing deep pleasure with the stinging pain. His eyes fluttered closed as he gave in to the overlapping sensations.

When Garak again twitched aside the curtain, he was holding a small, black box. Another squeeze of the palm, another flick of fingers, and Garak proceeded to fit Julian with a thick ball gag, sliding the wet, used fabric out from between his teeth and stretching his lips wide around black rubber. Leather clasps locked snugly around his head.

Garak ran one gray finger down Julian’s exposed throat, and Julian gurgled around the gag.

“Yes, you do look rather beautiful in this ensemble.”

Garak straightened up, his head once again cocked in courteous concern.

“But of course, the final decision is always up to the customer. I’ll just let you take a little more time to think about it.” And he slid back into the shop.

The next time he returned, he was brazenly carrying an anal plug.

“I thought this might offer you a better fit,” he said as he reached around Julian’s bound arms to gently tug the flared bulb out of Julian’s ass before slowly, _achingly_ slowly sliding a replacement in. The new plug was both wider and longer, and Julian tensed as he felt it stretching him.

“Breathe,” Garak whispered, one hand coming to stroke Julian’s hair as he continued to push the slick toy into his waiting channel.

Julian took a deep, shuddering breath and felt his ass swallow the last few centimeters of the plug. 

“Yes, I think that should do nicely.” Garak’s voice was back to its professional, clipped tone as he watched Julian adjust, his hips twitching and his fingers reflexively curling.

His cock was dripping sticky precome onto the rough floor; saliva had started to pool at the edges of his gag. His mind was clouding over in a haze of pleasure and submission. He wasn't in deep, not yet, but he trusted Garak to take him there.

The next passage of time was relatively quiet, the quiet _snip_ of shears slicing fabric and the _whir_ of the mechanized needle cutting occasionally through the silence - until the _tap_ of heels on the floor and the sharp, demanding voice of a customer brought Julian’s foggy focus back into the present.

“That’s a special order, I’m afraid," he heard Garak say. "One of a kind - the client was particularly insistent. But if you’d care to take a look at some design options, I’m sure I can make a few alterations that would meet with your approval.”

Julian overheard the entire exchange - the consultation, the selection of fabric, the smooth grace with which Garak turned the woman away from the fitting room, insisting he would only need to confirm further measurements after the sample had been created.

Julian's body was trembling, his cock throbbing, his ass split open, his mouth stretched uncomfortably wide. His heart jumped into his throat when a slender, tan hand covered with gold rings swam into his vision, grasping at the edge of the curtain.

"I'd love to just get an _idea_ of how the fabric will fall now. It wouldn't take more than a minute." The voice was light and musical, with a soft whine of avarice.

"The fitting room is, regrettably, out of order at this time." A bunching of the fabric told Julian Garak was holding the curtain closed. He wondered, through the haze of sensation, what Garak's expression looked like. Was he smiling through the smooth lie, courteous to a customer? Or was his brow set in that steely gaze of determination and unspoken danger?

The small hand withdrew with a disbelieving laugh.

"I've had to convert it into a temporary storage space, you understand. I can assure you it will be cleared out by the time your dress is ready for a fitting. In the meantime, would you care to take this fabric sample with you, to see the colors in the light of your quarters?"

The conversation moved away, Garak’s placating words soothing his customer's concerns along with Julian's sudden butterflies. The theoretical threat of exposure was one thing. The reality was something else. Slowly, he sank back into the tingling warmth of his limbs, the feeling of fullness in his mouth and ass, the persistent pressure at his prostate and nipples warm and welcome and wicked. This was all Garak’s doing, and Garak would take care of him. 

It was mere moments after the low _whoosh_ of the door indicated that the particular customer had left when Garak again appeared. A slight furrow of concern relaxed when he met Julian's hazel eyes, lightly glazed in submission and pleasure.

He snapped quickly into his role.

"I can think of something else I believe would improve this ensemble, but I'm afraid I've left it at my work table. I won't be more than a moment."

He was gone with a silent step and a swish of fabric. But when he returned, Garak wasn’t as careful with the curtain’s loose edges. Julian saw a flash of color and light as the shop beyond flicked quickly in and out of his vision. A spark of arousal shot through him at Garak's daring, and he shivered.

“Here they are - one or two final additions I thought you might want to take a look at.” 

His gray fingers were grasping two rings, black and thick. Julian’s pupils dilated as he realized what they were, a _thrum_ of pleasure squeezing another drop of precome from the tip of his cock.

Garak smiled.

"I see you are familiar with the concept. I do appreciate it when my customers can bring their knowledge to the design process. Now, if you'll allow me--"

He reached down and carefully wrapped the thicker ring around the base of Julian's cock, locking it tightly in place just above the thin rope harness. Julian trembled at the increased sensitivity this brought, at the wam heat pooling at his groin.

The second ring Garak slid against the tip of his cock, rolling back foreskin as he went. It took all of Julian’s control not to moan at the direct contact against his most sensitive skin, Garak's fingers feeling soft and cool.

Garak stopped just at the bottom of Julian’s cockhead, running his finger teasingly around the looped rubber to check position and tightness. Then, from the pocket of his tunic, he produced a tiny cylinder, black with a blinking red light. With a _click_ it joined the ring, and with a flick of Garak’s finger at its tapered end, it began to vibrate.

The rumble was low - audible enough for Ferengi ears to pick up, perhaps, but otherwise quiet enough to be covered by the background noise of station machinery. And it was certainly enough to drive Julian - oversensitized and still unsatisfied - positively wild.

He bucked his hips, his entire body following the movement in joined rope. He began to shake, his every nerve thrilling with overlapping feelings - his nipples and his ass burned with pleasure, his cock was hot with it - finally touched, finally stimulated, but the ring at its base kept him in check and on edge, blocking the orgasm that promised to carry him over into bliss.

Garak stood back but didn’t disappear through the curtain. His eyes were bright, intense, as he watched Julian writhe.

“I believe--” he paused to wet his lips. “I believe there is one more thing that would fully complete this ensemble.”

And Garak pushed his trousers down, taking his everted prUt in hand. He gazed unblinking at Julian as he stroked himself quickly to completion, his breath coming in short pants and hisses and his scales flushing to a dark blue.

His cum splattered across Julian’s sweaty, shaking form, white and sticky, hitting him in the face and sticking to the coiled rope binding his chest.

Garak sighed, tucked himself back away, and ran a smoothing hand across his hair.

“Y-yes. That’ll do.” He took a steadying breath. “I believe we are close to a final form, but I'll be back soon for any additional adjustments. Do let me know if you need any help with these latest additions.”

Once again, he left Julian alone in the fitting room, the thin fabric of the curtain wafting lightly in his wake.

Julian existed entirely in a haze of sensation and stricture. He felt so full; he felt entirely electrified. His ass clenched around the too-large plug, his channel milking the rubber; stars blossomed along his prostate as it continued to shift within him. His pinched nipples sparked with every twitch of his body. And his cock… he was cresting wave after wave of roiling pleasure, intense and unceasing. The ropes snaking around his limbs and chest provided delicious friction against his smooth skin - and prevented him from doing anything but to just sit there and _feel_.

Julian dipped his head back as far as the ropes would allow, letting his body shake and shiver and feel the lightning thrill along his every nerve; his every coherent thought focused on not making a sound. A sound would bring Garak. The wrong sound would end this wonderful, maddening torment.

And it was _wonderful_.

He was only dimly aware of the noises beyond the curtain, of the loud lunch rush of the replimat, of Garak’s dulcet tones and the occasional whirring of a needle. All of it swam at the edges of his consciousness, its presence banking his arousal like a warm blanket.

He felt the stirrings of climax rise and fall all along his cock and deep into his belly as the two rings he wore warred for supremacy. Several drops of precome were glistening along his slit. Sweat was trickling down the sides of his face and sinking into the ropes crossing his chest, mixing with his own drool and Garak’s drying cum. His whole being felt hot, as if the ropes were the only thing keeping him from bursting out of his skin.

He wasn't aware of the curtain opening again. But he did notice Garak’s bright blue eyes in front of his face, attentive and knowing. His voice, so close, so commanding, pierced through Julian’s mental fog.

“I want you to come for me, Julian. I want you to scream.”

The low rumble against Julian’s cock intensified as Garak unclasped the lower cock ring and blood rushed along his flushed length. Julian felt as if he had been dipped in a molten lake, his nerves on fire from the top of his head to the tip of his vibrating cock.

He didn't know if the gag had been removed or was still locked in place. His throat opened, and he roared. His vision went white, then sparkled, as he finally came, his entire body thrumming and buckling against the rope, cum shooting out of his cock in long, thick strands.

Garak lightly stroked him through the aftershocks, drawing every drop from his body and murmuring reassuring nothings in his ear. When the last drop was squeezed from his tip, the rumbling stopped, and Julian's mind finally dropped away.

**=/\=**

Garak had closed the shop early. There was to be a bath, and a massage, and a good long nap followed by - what was the term? Oh, yes, a “cuddle.”

He cradled Julian against him as he quickly swept up the detritus of their scene into an empty scrap bag. The beautiful man was trembling, glassy-eyed and unseeing. But he nuzzled into Garak’s broad chest, his lips parted drowsily and his lanky limbs limp.

They’d take the bath together, Garak decided as he piled coils of snipped rope into the bag.

He made a quick, careful sweep of the small room with his gaze. He'd come back for the stain in the carpet, but for now it looked innocuous enough.

He turned to his lover.

“Julian?” he whispered.

Julian blinked slowly. “Elim?”

“We’re going to move now.”

Julian's brow crinkled, and awareness flickered behind his eyes. “I… I can walk.”

Garak chuckled, and he dropped a kiss on Julian’ forehead.

“No need, my dear. Garak’s Clothiers provides door-to-door delivery services as part of the special fitting package."


End file.
